


aegri somnia

by wolfbanes



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Demons, Drabble Collection, Fortune Telling, M/M, Will add tags as I go, Witches, church grim, vixxtober
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-07-08 19:32:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15936830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfbanes/pseuds/wolfbanes
Summary: aegri somniaae·gri som·nia | \ ˌī-grē-ˈsȯm-nē-ˌä  \Definition of aegri somnia: a sick man's dreams : hallucinations : nightmaresDrabble collection. Please read chapter notes for warnings.Last update 18-10-21: Church grim au rabin





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by a lot of things, namely Vixx's new japanese album, a creepy horoscope, Hakyeon's most recent dance performance, Halloween and imaginecutevixx whole entire twitter account (please check them out!)
> 
> Happy vixxtober!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanghyuk eyes open and reality shivers.

  


“Don't you think you made him wait long enough?"

 

Sanghyuk is laying on the couch, arm thrown over his eyes. He sounds irritated. The whispers have probably been keeping him awake, as they have Jaehwan. But Jaehwan is better at pretending they don't exist. He sniffs. "It's only been a week.”

 

Sanghyuk sighs loudly and doesn't answer.

 

Outside, the sky adorns its most ominous colors, a greenish horizon paired with steel grey clouds. The air is heavy, carrying the wailing of a siren in the distance. Not a soul brave enough to venture outside, not with the town feeling like it’s about to be swallowed alive. The wind is blowing strong enough for the foundations of the house to vibrate and cause the branches of the frail oak by the window to tap against the glass with disturbing consistency.

 

_Tap, tap, tap._

 

Not unlike a knock at the door.

 

Something is out there, alone, and asking to come in.

 

Something is asking to come in and has for a while. Or rather, first it asked. But now, it resorted to begging. And Jaehwan knows demons don’t beg pretty.

 

It started with the faintest whispering, an ever-present background noise easy to tune out. But as the days went by, the whispers had grown louder and more desperate. Now, the murmurs are deafening, echoing like a forbidden litany. It does not sound like any language known to mankind. Unintelligible, unholy sounds that could very well be foretelling the end of times and are most definitely a presage of some kind.

 

Jaehwan feels a bit sorry for Sanghyuk. This waiting game isn't meant to inconvenience him really, it's supposed to piss off the demon quite literally knocking at their door. It's unfortunate that it doesn't seem to be able to take the hint and leave.

 

Being hundreds of years older than any demons, Jaehwan is perfectly entitled to a little brattiness to get his point across. And Sanghyuk knew was he was getting himself into when they had agreed to that binding contract.

 

So. There is that.

 

Jaehwan goes back to the human ashes sprinkled over the kitchen table and frowns. His readings have been particularly tough tonight; he keeps coming up with mixed signals and contradictory predictions. Hard to tell if demonic energy has been messing around with his fortune-telling or if Jaehwan is finally starting to get affected by the whispers. Unless, that is, the essence of time has already begun unravelling. In which case any reading would be completely useless. Demons whispers will do that. Jaehwan grumbles, thoroughly annoyed.

 

He hears Sanghyuk moving and looks up. He has grabbed one of the kitchen chairs and Jaehwan watches as he vanishes and reappears moments later without the piece of furniture. There is a faint trace of sooth underneath his naked feet.

 

He raises an eyebrow and Sanghyuk gives him a pointed look. “The chair is on the porch,” he says, “just in case you want to do this before I go insane."

 

He doesn’t wait for an answer, immediately shifting into his non-human shape and resuming his position on the couch.

 

If it wasn’t for his gaping mouth full of teeth and the intermittent growls he emits, it would look like a void has taken residence in Jaehwan’s living room. The fur of the beast is so dark, it seems to swallow light. Jaehwan coos at it.

 

Sanghyuk is always endearing, but Jaehwan has a soft spot for this particular shape of his. He imagines existential dread would look like this, should it ever physically manifest. He knows Sanghyuk feels the most comfortable in this shape, too.

 

Whatever it is supposed to be.

 

The house rattles after a particularly strong gust of wind and Jaehwan sighs. He has no doubt it will keep at until Time and Space start falling apart. Does he really want to be held accountable for the end of the world?

 

Normally, he’d say yes without a second thought. There is, after all, a certain prestige that comes with this kind of things. But taking credit when a demon—of all things—would be directly responsible would feel… dishonest. And Jaehwan is a lot of things, but he isn’t dishonest and has no use, really, for short-lived glory.

 

The end of the world can wait, but impatient demons can’t.

 

Fine.

 

 _Fine_!

 

He’ll do it.

 

If he focuses a bit, he can feel the spells around the property breathing. Inhale—bracing against the demonic magic—exhale—pushing it away. They’re good spells. Powerful. Efficient. He isn’t too keen on repelling the whole of it. After all, Jaehwan is a seer, not a goddamn sorcerer. Who knows what could invite themselves in? He’s going to have to get that one demon, just it and its demonic energy, inside the protected area.

 

To invite a demon in, one must first provide it with a place to sit, everyone knows that.

 

The chair is on the porch where Sanghyuk left it, unbothered by the storm brewing outside. It’s not a comfortable chair by any means, but demons are not in any position to bargain. Jaehwan traces the required symbols on its back then circles it with salt just to be an asshole.

 

He materializes in his hands the few other things he needs to complete the conjuring: fae ashes, liquid despair, a few pinches of bitterness, the first nightmare of a third-born child and a dash of agony, bottled. Conjuring a demon isn’t overly complicated. The only thing he needs now is an offering. Lucky, he knows just who to ask.

 

"Sanghyuk."

 

The beast hasn’t moved an inch and is sleeping soundly. Jaehwan can tell by the way Sanghyuk flickers in and out of this dimension. He must have figured out a way to mute the constant whispering. Jaehwan shakes him gently, avoiding the snarling mouth of the beast that snaps at him even in its sleep. His fur doesn’t feel like anything at all, slipping between his fingers like water.

 

"Sanghyuk, wake up."

 

Sanghyuk eyes open and reality shivers. He shifts on the couch and regains his human form, the beast lingering in the swiftness of his movements when he gets up to rub his eyes. He’s moving too quickly for his body to follow. An afterimage is what he looks like, his body catching up with itself a few beats later. Forced out of sleep, Sanghyuk always gets caught between two opposed dimensions. Today is no exception; Jaehwan can barely perceive where he begins and where he ends.

 

He decides to help, to give Sanghyuk something to focus on. Jaehwan lays a hand on Sanghyuk’s chest, dragging his palm over his ribcage. Sanghyuk exists where Jaehwan is, that is the nature of their accord.

 

"I need your heart."

 

Sanghyuk, the whole of him, eventually stutters back into place.

 

"Finally," he whispers.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank for reading!! kudos and comments are always lovely!!
> 
> (and thank u alice ur the best!!!)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Fuck.” Hongbin’s breath was coming out ragged. “Can’t a man die in peace.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Church grim au rabin.
> 
> Warnings for injuries and character death.

Wonshik had no idea how long it had been since he died. He knew he had lived at some point but couldn’t recall the specifics. His gravestone had all but been completely covered in moss, obscuring details about his life, and time had slowly chipped away at his memory, leaving behind mere slivers of sounds, feelings and faces. No one to miss, but no one to remember.

Watching over the graveyard wasn’t all that bad. Quiet mostly. Often sad.

He’d seen a lot of people get buried, had witnessed a lot of funerals, a lot of tears.

Every soul at rest in the cemetery was his responsibility to protect, from the moment they were brought to the church yard until –forever, Wonshik assumed. He didn’t mind. Someone had to do it and he thought he was pretty good at turning away thieves and trespassers. Usually didn’t take much. He’d turn into a shadow and murmur curses in their ears, breathing down their necks, or he’d shift into a large dog with glowing eye and simply chase them away.

If during the day people mostly came bearing flowers and good intentions, Wonshik had quickly learned that it was night time that brought out the ill-intentioned.

So when the gates creaked open a little past midnight on one quiet evening and a silhouette stumbled in, Wonshik was immediately wary.

Suspicion gave way to concern as the man made his way between gravestones, tripping over his feet a few times and holding his side like he was afraid his guts would spill out.

It wasn’t long until Wonshik smelled the blood. And then death. Or rather, the inevitability of it.

He pursed his lips, sighing.

The man all but collapsed under the old oak tree in a corner of the yard. Even from where he stood, Wonshik could see his chest heaving, the pallor of his cheeks, the crimson stain covering his left side.

He slowly made his way over.

That kind of situation didn’t exactly fall under his jurisdiction, but it would eventually and sooner rather than later from the looks of it.

To his surprise, the man immediately met his eyes. Must have been closer to death than Wonshik thought. He parted his lips like he was about to scream and then seemed to think better of it and scoffed. “I’m going to die anyway.”

Wonshik repressed a smile at that and nodded solemnly. “Yes, you will.”

The man stared at him for a few seconds. Wonshik knew he was a lot to take in. He knew he appeared _mostly_ human to other people. Minus the red eyes and the shadows following him, coiling at his feet like dozens of snakes. He knew he looked human, but not exactly alive or normal. Something about him was off, like he should not be seen or heard. And he usually wasn’t.  

 “Are you some kind of ghost? What’s your name?” the other asked, squinting.

He had beautiful eyes, Wonshik noted absentmindedly. Large and brown and shining. He wondered if he had been crying, or perhaps had a fever.

“I’m not exactly a ghost.” He crouched to his level. “My name is Wonshik and I’m a Church grim—I protect the people buried on these grounds.”

For some reason, that made the man laugh. A dry, humorless laugh, interrupted by a coughing fit that looked rather painful. He extended a shaky arm, the one not currently pressing on his side. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Grim. I’m Hongbin.”

Wonshik shook his hand. “Just Wonshik is fine.”

Hongbin’s skin was freezing. Although he was trying to make light of the situation, he was obviously in a lot of pain. Wonshik could see it clearly now, the sweat making strands of hair stick to his forehead, his weakening pulse. And the blood. So much blood.

Without thinking, Wonshik clasped his other hand on top of Hongbin’s.

Hongbin startled and offered him a weak smile. “I didn’t think Death would be friendly, or—or compassionate.”

“Not Death,” Wonshik reminded him gently, “just a grim.”

Hongbin exhaled a shaky breath and adjusted his position, wincing. “Will you… Will you still protect my soul if I’m not properly buried?”

Wonshik’s eyebrows rose up. “I don’t see why not.”

Hongbin was still, after all, going to die in the graveyard. The earth was still, eventually, going to gather his bones. And it already had his blood.

Hongbin nodded, looking relieved. “Thank you.”

“Over here!”

Wonshik whipped his head around and Hongbin made a garbled noise.

Seems like a few villagers had gathered by the cemetery’s entrance. Some of them were wielding torches, others makeshift swords or pikes. “We know you’re in here, witch!” one of them yelled.

“Fuck.” Hongbin’s breath was coming out ragged. “Can’t a man die in peace.”

Wonshik squeezed his hand before letting go and standing up. “Sure, he can.”

Hongbin blinked a few times, quickly putting two and two together. “I’m… I’m not—dead yet, though.”

“No,” said Wonshik, “but you will be.” He gave Hongbin a small smile and bent down to brush the back of his hand over Hongbin’s cheek. “It makes no difference to me.”

Hongbin returned his smile and shut his eyes, hand going to one of the roots peeking out as though he was trying to ground himself. “Thank you,” he whispered.

The villagers were still by the gates, seemingly hesitant to step foot in the cemetery. They were looking in their general direction, but Wonshik knew the shadows would make it hard for them to discern anything other than vague silhouettes.

He started walking towards the entrance, making himself look progressively bigger as he did so. He released the bounds of his physical body to embrace the darkness surrounding him and became one with the shadows. He embodied fear and agonizing terror; the kind of which mortals would never recover from.

The moment the villagers realized the thing coming at them wasn’t human, it was already too late.

Wonshik shrouded them in darkness, putting out their torches, and revelled in the sheer panic that ensued. These men were now witnessing their own deepest fears. Some immediately scrambled off, others fell to the ground gasping for air or screaming, while the rest remained frozen in place.

 _Leave,_ he coaxed them. _Do not come back, ever._

It wasn’t long before the only things left by the gates of the cemetery were torches and weapons on the ground.

***

When Wonshik returned to the oak, Hongbin had vanished.

He lowered himself to the ground, dragging his fingers on the blood-tainted soil between the roots. He knew he couldn’t have gone anywhere, not in the state he had been in when Wonshik left. And he couldn’t feel him anywhere in the graveyard.

But Hongbin was a witch, was he not?

Wonshik stood up, supporting his weight on the tree as he did so. Strangely, he felt the bark absorb the bloody dirt covering his fingers and he gasped.

The tree breathed and Wonshik smiled again. “Hello, Hongbin.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank for reading!! kudos and comments are always lovely!!
> 
> (and thank u alice ur the best!!!)


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